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“Perhaps it did. Or perhaps Sage’s collar finally kicked in.”
From what I knew, Sage’s tattoos were made with ink derived from her creepy little pickled-organ jars. I was glad that the horrible bitch was dead, but it had me wondering. Ansin knew King would return if the body wasn’t disposed of properly. Case in point, when Ansin took out Sage, he’d made sure to remove her head with his dagger. I’d accidentally glanced at the carnage. Wouldn’t ever forget it. Neither would I forget how she’d had one of those collar tattoos, too.
So why was Ansin so careless with King’s body? Also, if the collar had brought King back, then why did it take so long? Or had the tablet worked?
Something about this situation didn’t make sense, but okay. What mattered was that King could help me where Ansin had failed.
Just before landing in San Francisco, Ansin finally woke from his nap or meditative state or whatever it was. Yet he still looked tired.
“Why didn’t you remove King’s head?” I asked.
“I did not think it necessary,” he replied. “And I ordered the hospital staff to burn his body.”
“So why didn’t they?”
He shrugged. “A mystery to be sure. What is your point?”
“You remembered to decapitate Sage, but not him. You left the disposal of his body to someone else.”
“And?”
“Maybe you didn’t want him dead after all. Maybe you didn’t want him gone because then you wouldn’t have a worthwhile rival in the world. I mean, where’s the challenge in ruling over a bunch of sheep?”
Ansin chuckled and shook his head condescendingly.
“Why did you lie and say you love me earlier?” I asked.
He stopped laughing and stared with those dark eyes, pushing back his jaw-length hair.
“This is all just some pissing match to you, isn’t it?” I said. “I’m just an object to acquire—an object that belongs to King.”
“Let me see if I understand what you’re saying, Jeni. You think I secretly wanted King to live so that he could be around to witness the moment I made you mine.”
“Yes.”
He chuckled deeply.
“Am I right?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why tell me you love me? We both know you don’t love anything other than power.”
He closed his eyes, returning to his meditative state. “Wake me after we land.”
Such an Ansin move. He refused to let anyone see what was going on inside that head. Speaking of head, mine was starting to hurt again. I reached into my bag and popped a few aspirin in my mouth, washing them down with a bottle of water I’d found in the galley.
I closed my eyes and tried one more time to use my gifts. Find Draco. Find Draco. Where are you, baby? Mommy misses you so much. If I couldn’t see him, maybe he could see me. Baby, if you can hear me, just hang on. I’m going to find you.
I waited for a spark or feeling in my gut—anything to indicate he knew I would never give up.
Nothing.
It was like there was a dark heavy wall around him. Or me?
Please, God. Let King find him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jeni
Ansin seemed incredibly calm for a man who’d just had his life threatened by King. But as we exited the airport rental—another large SUV—and approached the entrance to the warehouse, he strolled through the night with ease. A man without a care in the world. Me, my knees were shaking. There was no one on the street—no cars, people, or even a stray cat. Creepy. It was too quiet for a big city.
“Do you think he’s already here?” I asked, watching the tentacles of thick fog waft over the streetlamps to create a miserable ambiance right out of a horror film.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” He reached for the heavy steel door to the side of the closed loading bay and pulled, stepping into the dark warehouse.
“I’ll wait out here while you find the light switch.” No way would I go in there without light. I’d seen the place before. Another horror-film set.
As I waited, a stench hit my nose.
“What the hell is that?” I covered my mouth.
“We are about to find out,” Ansin called from inside. “There it is.”
The inner lights flickered on.
“What are you waiting for?” he called out.
“For you to tell me it’s safe?” I yelled.
“It’s King’s arsenal. There is nothing safe about it,” he replied.
Good point.
I stepped inside. The warehouse looked different from the last time. An inch of dust covered everything. The dangling can lights overhead flickered or were out altogether.
I walked along the center aisle, which contained mostly paintings, vases, and rare cars. Upstairs was where King kept the important stuff—his powerful items. If anything could help us find my child, it would be there in one of the thousands of crates and boxes piled twenty feet high. Thankfully, King was going to meet us here. He’d know which item would work the fastest.
